


incandesce

by mazelinka (ariatl)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Anxiety, Asivael is a sweet and loving girl with a parrot familiar that does ITS BEST, Depression, Developing Relationship, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting to Know Each Other, I've never written anything for this fandom so I'M the one who's a ball of anxiety, Magic, Magical Realism, Slow Burn, and I'm not entirely sure where it's going but we'll figure that out together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 01:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13089744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariatl/pseuds/mazelinka
Summary: Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token.





	incandesce

No point.

No point –

No point –

No meaning to life, to nothing, to anything, lost in a waste of pitiless space, undeserving of his wretched occupancy. Brick by brick, piece by piece, each lumbered step one that buried him further into the shallow grave he’s been digging himself for years -

He deserved it.

All of it.

There was only one last thing to do, lest he cast himself into the fire without so much as a whisper of goodbye, the thought a pained longing long lost that hung in his chest.

_Asra._

It felt strangely apt to knock on the front door he’s barged into many times before, the furrow of his flame-shade brows enough to make him hesitate at the entrance to the familiar shop. The key was still tucked into his coat’s pocket, or…

The back door.

One twist down the foggy, lumber-lauded alley led to the brick-coddled wall of his shop, tucked away by the most abstract of trees under the starry disguise of night. A chill hung in the air, clinging to his bones and seeping through his coat as if it weren’t three-times outlined with thick wool.

A smile almost pulled at his lips at the thought of the man that’d been stuck in his mind for weeks, enough to send a shockwave through his chest as he readjusted the mask shadowing his sharp features. The key entered, turned, and –

The faintest outline of magenta-hued hair enlightened by the flickering flames of the cauldron by the fireplace through the crack in the door made him hesitate. Moonlight shuttered into the dimly-lit room, warmly hued by rich candelabras and white wax set up in various corners of the messy room.

Who –

“Stay safe, okay?” It was a woman; Her voice was soft, airy – Lilted, almost, a tune hidden behind her words as if she were humming a song. If he leaned forward just a _hair_ more, he caught more of the events unfolding, small hands reaching out to grasp honey-beige forearms to keep the man in place. “And, _please_ , do try to contact me more than just _once_ a month. I worry myself blind when you’re gone! Do you know how hard it is to focus on keeping the shop in tip-top shape when I’m an absolute _ball_ of anxiety?”

The chuckle that her worries earned was familiar. Adoration hung in his vibrant eyes from what he could see, gentle, yet sweet. “I know, I know. I’ll try my best, Asivael.”

“Try more than _just_ your best!” She huffed.

A sigh broke them apart with the push of her hands, the fervent shake of her head tousling long, pink locks over her bare shoulders as she made haste to the far wall filled with bookshelves. The quickest glance down revealed an off-the-shoulder top loosely clinging to tawny skin, a strange pattern etched into olive fabric. It looked like runes, almost, the intricacy of the thick, black outlines dizzying.

“Last time you said that, you didn’t communicate with me for over _two months_.” The lucid gesture of her hands wringing in front of her stomach hinted at the slightest bit of anger, before a finger caught on a book’s spine. She tilted it back, focusing on it. “I nearly shit myself! Do that again, and I’ll hang you by the scruff of your fluffy –“

“Take care,” a click of the door interrupted her, catching her attention. “Millie.”

Julian paused. Millie? Wasn’t she just –

Her gaze softened as she glanced over her shoulder, a slender hand pausing on a taut book. “I will, Papaya.”

Papaya?

The door shut, and she was left to her thoughts.

Curiosity made him hesitate, a single eye trained on her as she paused at the bookshelf. A soft breath escaped her when she realized she was finally, truly alone, before she allowed the book to _thunk_ back into place and stepped back from the musty shelf.

“Well,” it was more under her breath than aloud, her words. Mostly to herself, but partly to the silent air of the cottage. “Guess I should start to tidy up a bit, huh? This place is a mess and I’m not really all that tired, yet.”

Or, it did sound as if she were talking to someone –

An ungodly squawk nearly jolted him from his perch in front of the cracked door. The fluttering of multi-colored wings mimicked his heart as a creature whirred by her head, billowing gusts of wind that twirled her vibrant hair, before claws carefully landed on her shoulder. “Yes.”

The voice unnerved him, a widened, red-rimmed eye slowly focusing –

A parrot.

It was a parrot.

The beautiful bird, vibrant colors so akin to her, was perched on her shoulder, nestled safely beside her freckled cheek with its beak stuffed into her hair. It sounded as if it were stuck on repeat, a strange cacophony of affirmations screeching into the air with each step she took to gather up misplaced items.

“I agree – Say, in the morning, should we head to the markets and get that banana bread you love so dearly, Malachi?”

“Yes!” Malachi twisted to and fro, the sway of his beak perforated by rambunctious screams. “Yes!”

“Well, consider it done. First thing, right as soon as I get up, we’ll head to the markets.” It seemed like the perfect opportunity for him to make his move, a low creek shuddering through the floorboards as he moved forward –

A rough knock from across the room made his body tense. He settled back into his hidden nook, a narrowed eye watching as the woman glanced over at the source of the noise.

Asivael seemed torn, almost, a strange fear hidden in her hesitant movements as she quietly tip-toed to the front door to peer through the glass-constructed hole nestled in the center of the wood. A light gasp made her jump back, wringing hands indecisive before another knock prompted her into action.

It happened quickly, the opening of the dark, oak door. A loud screech punctuated the air as Malachi fluttered off of her shoulder, the motions spinning through the room scaring him away. “I –“

“Don’t tell me,” the figure that padded in, most elegant despite a strange sense of urgency, was shrouded by a cloak. Its voice was effeminate, sweet, yet regal, their words clear and pronounced. It had the slightest hint of an accent beneath it, just a taste, but there. “I have not come too late, have I?”

“Well,” Asivael hesitated. “We closed shop a half hour ago, but I suppose I could make an exception for you.”

“Good,” relaxation bubbled through the cloaked person’s being as slender hands gripped the edges of loose fabric, shrugging it off of her head with effortless precision. It lazily fell about her neck, framing up-swept purple hair in the loveliest of ways, a stunning contrast to the red gaze that seemed as though it pierced through souls. “Because I need answers.”

Once the familiarity kicked in, his heart sank.

Nadia.

Asivael stumbled over her words, a tangible tension rushing through her body and stiffening her movements as she registered who, exactly, was in her presence. She was speechless. “Oh – I – Your Highness, I’m afraid that I’m not –“

“There’s no need for such high speak in regards to me, truly.” Nadia stepped further into the shop, examining the antique knick-knacks scattered about the shelves. Long fingers adorned by ornate rings grasped a delicately-made, porcelain cat, twisting it from one side to the other. “I am merely a customer, now, and I wish for you to address me as such.”

“Oh.” Hands wrangled the front of her olive dress, unsure how to proceed. “I - What would you like for me to call you?”

“For now, Countess.”

“Countess,” a tremble in her voice almost gave way to the anxiety bubbling in her stomach as she repeated after her. She cleared her throat. “I’m Asivael – Asra’s apprentice. I trust you must’ve come for a reading from him, right?”

The nod of her head made her sheepishly smile.

“I’m afraid that you’ve just missed him. He slinked out a few minutes ago to head off on another trip he’s been planning for a while – You know, opening his third eye, frolicking in nature to get in tune with his wild side, and intricate things of that nature.”

“That’s quite fine,” Nadia made her way over to a glass-entwined counter, staring longingly at the intricate jewelry hidden inside. “You’ll do just as well. I mean,” a glance over her shoulder made the woman tense, the fierceness in her sharp gaze enough to melt her in her spot. “You _have_ learned from the best, have you not?”

That earned a grin from the girl, lighting up the sullen air of the room. “I have.”

“Good.” Her smile rivaled hers. “Let’s get started, then.”


End file.
